Sweet Dreams
by DoublyToxicWaste
Summary: The task of protector was one that Candace assumed very early in her life, fully willing to undergo whatever it might require of her. It's not always killer robots or hunting down food to stave off starvation, though. Sometimes, a protector's services are needed... in ways a little closer to home.


It was a shout.

Well, more a yelp, really. Like the sound a scared puppy might make.

Candace snapped awake, her hands instinctively curling around the empty air by her side where her staff normally resided. There was nothing there, of course. The lumpy couch beneath her and the ancient television set filling the dark room with its faint glare was enough to to remind her of that.

She was at the house, for now, having reluctantly decided that it would be best for her to take cover for a few days to sit out the increased alert level that the NORMbot patrols had been set on, in the interest of not accidentally drawing any more attention to her brothers' only home than absolutely necessary. It did _technically_ provide a little time to let her twisted ankle heal, along with whatever it was that stabbed her in the chest whenever she tried breathing in.

In the way of things that weren't actually complete wastes of time, though, it also gave her opportunity to pore over the scattered information she'd collected about Doofenshmirtz, hunting for some sort of weakness she could exploit. Any sort of weakness.

And also her brothers.

The Dooferalls were rough and the thick, cheap fabric hung heavily on her frame as she hurried up the stairs to their room, in the direction of the sound. She hated Dooferalls; they were so _constricting_ and made it just about impossible to move quickly enough to evade the aiming capabilities of NORMbots.

Somehow she doubted that had been accidental, even as she longed for her skintight bodysuit, for her weapon, tucked away beneath that loose board in the floor of the kitchen.

Instinct demanded she kick the flimsy wooden door of her brothers' room clear into next week for daring to impede her progress towards them.

She caught a breath and opened it instead, sending it banging back against the wall.

"What's going on in here?" It was dark in the room, and the tinted sunglasses didn't much help in that regard. But the corners of the room were empty, the window was unbroken and still shut, the furniture appeared unmoved, the closet door was yet hanging open, revealing a bare interior.

 _And_ Phineas and Ferb were still in their beds. Candace frowned.

"I asked a question. I expect an answer." She paused for a moment, running her eyes over the ceiling, what she could see of the space beneath their beds, and tried to listen for any sounds out of the ordinary. There was nothing – nothing but dead silence – and it was making her tense.

"I – I had a bad dream," Phineas spoke at last, his voice quavering in the dimness.

Candace blinked, feeling some of the adrenaline draining out of her body. "Oh." There was no danger here, not immediately, at least. She was suddenly reminded that she was standing on her bad ankle, too.

"I'm scared."

"Of what?" Her mouth had hardened into a grim line at the thought.

The hesitation was clearly audible in Phineas' voice. "I – I don't know. It's… it's just so dark in here. You can't really see anything."

"Yes." Her tone was matter-of-fact, even though she wasn't sure where her brother was going with this. The house wasn't _safe_ , not completely, but it was the best she could manage. If he _wanted_ something – anything within reason – all he had to do was ask.

"I – I know it's silly," the little boy stammered. "But… it's so dark. And I can't see, and it's, like, what if… what if there was something under my bed? I couldn't even see it. I – I don't like the dark, Candace."

She scowled at the idea. Intruders? In _this_ house? Not likely. What was she supposed to _say_ to that, though? Something… comforting, right? Her brothers knew she wouldn't let anything happen to them. She knew they knew that. "Phineas, if there was something under your bed, I'd drag it out from under there and beat it into a bloody pulp 'til there wasn't anything left to be buried."

Silence.

A faint, high-pitched giggling – Phineas'. The corners of her mouth turned slightly upwards at the sound. "I know. You always say that."

Candace shrugged. "It's true."

Phineas sighed a little, nestling down further into his blanket. "I know… it's just, I mean, you're always gone days and sometimes nights, too. Why can't – can Ferb and I come with you tomorrow?" The anticipation was building his voice as he spoke. "That would be so cool."

"No." The answer was final. For anyone _else_ she might have been speaking to, it would've been good enough. She didn't take well to idiots who thought they could undermine her direct orders. She could see her brother's shoulders slump slightly, though, and exhaled sharply through her nose. "I'm here _now_. If you wanna focus on something, focus on that."

"I guess." She turned to leave the room, only to be interrupted by his voice again. "I'm still scared, though. Can – can you just – can you stay in here with me an' Ferb? Please? I – I think he might be scared, too."

She hesitated. "Fine."

"Yay!" He clapped his hands once, then anxiously looked over at Ferb's bed, probably worried about waking their sleeping brother. "I – I like it when you're here Candace. The dark, it – it's not so scary when you're here, you know?"

She'd walked across the room and sat down on his bed, grunting under her breath as she finally took the weight off her bad foot and stretched it out on the mattress, trying to think of some way to respond to him. What _was_ it about her brothers that made that so difficult sometimes? "You should be scared of it, though," she settled on. It _was_ true, after all. "The darkness hides a lot of dangerous things. It's wise to be frightened when you can't see to prepare yourself. It's why you have to stay inside."

He scooted up close to her side, dragging the blanket with him, shoving some of it over her lap. "I know. But I still don't, not when you're here." He looked up at her as he snuggled down close. "Why do you still have your 'glasses on? It's dark in here."

Candace stared at her brother, bundled up in the blanket like a swaddled baby. "I don't know," she softly lied after a moment. "Why?"

Phineas scrunched his face up. "You ought to take 'em off. So I can see your face. I like seein' people's faces. Like Ferb. 'cept you can't see his now, 'cause he's sleeping."

"Mmm." She considered what he'd asked of her. Part of her wanted to snap off another quick 'no' and be done with it. The sunglasses, they… they hid her identity from prying surveillance drones and delayed the rate at which NORMbot processors could visually identify her. They were kinda like a wall, in a way, something to hide behind, the smoked lenses dulling the contrast between her blood and her skin, replacing the bloodshot appearance of her eyes with an unwavering, unreadable darkness, no matter who or what she was facing. She was weak, but they hid that, hid it behind the dark glass and the plastic frame that never betrayed emotion.

She looked down at Phineas again, and needed only see the plaintive look in his wide blue eyes – still so full of childish innocence – to make up her mind. Exhaling sharply, she reached up and gingerly pushed the glasses away from her eyes, up to the top of her head.

Phineas smiled at her as she blinked, trying to let her eyes adjust to the now-slightly-lighter dimness. He laid his head back on his pillow. "Will you tell me a story?"

For what had to be the tenth time in as many minutes, Candace wasn't quite sure how to respond. It wasn't a feeling she was very familiar with. She couldn't say that she was terribly fond of it, either. "What?"

"A bedtime story," he repeated. "You know, the way Mommy used to tell before, a long time ago. They always helped me go to sleep easier."

Candace nodded. "Oh." She _did_ faintly remember her mother once having sat up nights next to her bed and reading some story about… something. Turtles and rabbits, or something like that. It'd been a _long_ time, though, and she was honestly surprised that Phineas remembered at all.

"Please?"

"Fine."

"Yay!" he snuggled closer up under her arm. "Story!"

Sucking in a breath, she began. "Um. A long time ago. Years and years. There was… a turtle and a rabbit." What happened next? She'd sworn that she remembered, but that she was trying to repeat it from her memory, it was as if the memory had just slipped right from between her fingers. But to stop now would be to disappoint her brother. "And the rabbit, she… loved the turtle very, very much."

"Very much?" he interrupted.

"So much. And, uh…" she paused for a moment, staring out the bedroom's single window at the dark houses on the other side of the street. "And one day the tree they lived in got set on fire."

"On fire?"

"Yes. Fire." Candace shivered a little, recollecting two months ago and the abandoned supermarket. The wide burn scar etched across her left hip started itching again, and she shifted slightly, trying to get the rough Dooferalls fabric to stop chafing at it. "Anyway. There was a fire. And it, uh, well, turtles aren't strong, you know. They're very slow and weak. Because they're turtles."

Phineas' eyes had opened wide again. "Did he get burned up?"

She smiled faintly, shaking her head. "No. The rabbit was fast enough to push him out before he got hurt. The tree burnt down, but it was okay, because the turtle was okay."

"And the rabbit?"

"Well, she got hurt a little because a falling brick landed on the top of her foot and broke three of her toes, but she didn't mind too much. As long as the turtle was safe and happy, so was she."

"Whoa." Phineas' voice was thick with both exhaustion and awe. "That's… that's so nice. It must have hurt."

She nodded. "I suppose that it must have, yes. But I don't think she minded either way. As long as her… turtle was safe."

"Mmm hmm," he murmured, his eyelids drooping. "I like that story. It's nice."

Candace shrugged noncommittally, leaning her head back against the wall. "I suppose."

"Goodnight, Candace," he slurred, stirring a little. "'Love you."

She'd been through a lot, and so much of it she refused to even recall for fear experiencing the pain again. The scars that had begun popping up here and there on her body were quite enough as far as permanent reminders of those things went. And yet, somehow, she knew that come fire or flood or burning acid or electrical shock or whatever else still lurked in the dark, shadowy future, as long as there was even an ounce of blood left in her veins, she'd have poured it out for them in an instant.

That was what she did, yes, but _this_ – this was why she did it.

She smiled fondly at Phineas – and at Ferb, sleeping soundly in the other bed this whole time. "I love you too."


End file.
